I know you
by Spikesterholic
Summary: "It made sense that he would show up here. This had always been their private place to find solace in each other's silence, his proximity, providing her with comfort and safety." Short one-shot. Set after 'Chosen'.


**I know you**

She was seated on her porch steps. The moon was unusually bright and there was a slight, bitter chill in the night air, which caused her to pull her cardigan tight around her small frame. She stared out into the garden, the edges of the greenery, basked in a pale blue glow that faded into black, as the garden got deeper.

She smiled as she felt his presence materialize and occupy the space beside her. She stayed focused on the dark in front of her. It made sense that he would show up here. This had always been their private place to find solace in each other's silence, his proximity, providing her with comfort and safety.

They sat for hours, looking into the night, neither saying a word, neither moving.

She had so many things she wanted to tell him, ask him, discuss with him, argue out with him, but the words would not come. She didn't want to destroy what they had. What they were experiencing. What she took for granted, so many times.

She could see his dusty, beaten down boots in the corner of her peripheral vision and felt herself smirk at the sight of them. If it hadn't have been for their brief, intimate time together, she would have believed that those same boots were glued to his feet. A rustle of leather and a clink of metal told her that he was lighting up a cigarette, and soon enough, she was embraced with the scent of burning tobacco and a rhythm of grey, smoke clouds, wafting across her line of sight.

Soon enough, she once again heard the shuffle of fabric and the scuffle of a shoe, to indicate he'd extinguished the butt under his foot. After a few more moments, she decided to steal a glance at him, to find him staring at her, a soft, peaceful smile on his face. It shot through her, like a red-hot arrow, straight through her chest, knocking the air from her lungs.

"I have to go soon."

His voice shattered the silence. He had spoken softly, yet to Buffy's ears, he sounded amplified to a thousand decibels. It was enough to break the barrier, and before she could comprehend what she was doing, she blurted out the one question that had been on her mind for hours.

"Why didn't you believe me?"

He tuned his head to stare at his boots, turning his foot sideways to observe the crushed cigarette butt that lie underneath, smile still plastered on his features.

"Because, I know you, pet."

There was a hint of his old cockiness within his reply. That smug attitude that she used to find oh, so annoying.

He turned back to look at her once again. Seeing her questioning face, waiting for an explanation, he sobered from his teasing attitude, confident smirk soon turned into a bittersweet gaze.

"I know you well enough to know you'll never love me."

She stared at him, dumbstruck. On seeing her incredulous glare, he looked into her eyes, telling her it was okay and showering her with love, all through his crystal blue orbs.

_Well, you obviously don't know me well enough._

Her reply died in her throat as she was suddenly staring into the blue eyes of her sister. The crisp, cool air of the night, replaced with the dry, overbearing heat of central heating. The callous, ridged wood of the porch replaced with rough, white linen from the hotel bed, cocooned around her.

"The other's are up. We need to figure out a plan of action for what we're going to do now."

Buffy let Dawn's words sink in as the last twenty-four hours came back to her. The Hellmouth. The First. Sunnydale. Spike. All gone. Realization hit her that she had just dreamt of him. It wasn't real. No. It was real. It was him. She knew it. He had come to see her one last time. She could feel him. Her blanket of warmth was soon washed away by a wave of dread. He had gone, once again, before she could tell him, show him, convince him, prove to him, her words were true.

Peeling herself away from the firm, worn hotel bed, she had one last emotion sink into her heart – determination. If he were to show up again tonight, she would make him sorry for ever doubting her love.


End file.
